Duct Tape

I see people walk these streets
Duct tape strapped across their
Mouths preventing their sound
From polluting the earth, isn’t it

Time their voices were heard, this
Is what the world has come to,
Stepping on cracks and walking
Under ladder, lathering in the

Secrecy of the mind, designed to
Spin information until all the x’s
Are in place, what about identity?
We thrive in a place where numbers

Are for paper and people are only
Counted according to their worth,
Mirth and merriment drowned in
The vapor of alcohol the only

Lubricant allowing first introductions
Under the headlights of prying eyes,
No surprise creativity dies and has
To be reanimated through the ages

We’ve only ever been taught how
To act for the sake of the audience
And never for the show, I know my
Voice booming over the heads of

The crowd, lost in the senseless din,
Their tones mingling until they all
Sound the same, insane chanting in
An empty car park just off the highway

Look. At all the empty film rolls trampled
In the mud, all the lips tapered shut, this,
This is what we have done.

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